Mary Alice's secret story
by sillygirl1935
Summary: Mary Alice Brandon lives in San Francisco in 1935. She is psychic, but haven't told her family because her parents hate her, and her little sister, Cynthia, is her parents little angel. The only one she can trust is herself, until... please R&R.
1. Chapter 1: First weird sight

The psychic Mary Alice Brandon's diaries!

I woke up in a weird place. It looked like a small street from where I lay. I didn't know. I just felt a type of fire in my throat. I thought it was thirst, very strong thirst.

I didn't remember anything at all. Not even my name.

I sat up and looked around. It weren't a street. It was like a little room; a cell. But how did I get here?

I was afraid to rise up. I didn't feel dizzy or anything, I just had the feeling that I would fall backward. But I tried, and I didn't fall. I decided to try to get out of this weird cell. In the moment I decided that, I got a vision where I actually did it. That was weird.

I did what I had decided to do anyway. The feeling of déjà vu was so strong that I nearly became dizzy.

The door was, to my relief, really open. Outside it was dark. Night, I supposed; only five people in the streets at all. They stood several yards apart from each other, but still I had a feeling that they were together. They all had their eyes on me. Even from this distance, I saw that their eyes had the same caramel colour. It was three men and two women. One of the men was blonde. He looked like the oldest and the most experienced of them.

The second man had black, curled hair. He had most muscles of them all. He was big and a type of scary.

The third man looked like the youngest of them. Around 17 years old, but still very wise and experienced.

One of the women was more beautiful than any other person I've ever met (though I didn't remember anything, and though every one of them was inhumanly beautiful). She had long, golden blonde hair and long, smooth legs. Any girl, who saw her, would have been jealous (including me).

The other woman was rounder than the others, but still very thin. Her hair was a light brown colour. Her face had a kind of heart shape. I didn't know why I thought so, but I felt that these people were dangerous, despite their beauty. But I felt that they were a type of killers.

The youngest man stepped forward.

"We're not the type of killers you think we are," he said in a voice that sounded like velvet.

But how could he know that I thought they were killers? Were they mindreaders?

"No, it's just me," he said.

"What is she wondering of, Edward?" the blonde man asked.

"She thinks we're killers, but not the kind of killers we really are. And she understood that I'm a mindreader out of what I said," Edward told him, "but I am surprised that she hasn't understood what she is herself."

"Of course she hasn't, Edward. She doesn't know anything about us. And you're the one who know that best," the beautiful woman said in a nearly angry voice. Her voice was as beautiful as everything else about her.

"That was not what I meant, Rosalie. She has a talent just like me."

"A talent?" I and Rosalie asked at the same time.

"Which talent does she have?" the big man asked impatiently.

Edward turned back to me, and now I saw his hair colour; it was a type of bronze. "Did you know that you're psychic?" he asked in a tone that sounded like he already knew the answer, "Did you know that your name is Mary Alice Brandon? Do you know what you've turned into? Do you know who turned you into what you are?"

"No, I don't know anything at all," I told them, and now I heard my voice clearly. But it didn't sound like me. It sounded like light velvet. Then I remembered something else Edward had said; "Mary Alice Brandon? Is that really my name? Do you know anything else about me?" I asked. I began to be curios.

"I understand that you're anxious to learn about yourself, but we have to talk somewhere else," the little woman told me.

And suddenly I felt that I knew everything. I felt that I was a vampire.

Then the sight ended. Suddenly. I don't understand it. Will I turn into a vampire? Vampires doesn't even exist.

Uh-oh. My little sister is coming. See ya.


	2. Chapter 2: Cute mr Whitlock

A sight from the future!

I've got one more sight. And this time I like what I see; a boy sits a few yards away from me. He hasn't noticed me yet. He is SO beautiful. He's like an angel. From this angle though. I want to talk to him, but I'm so nervous. What if he hates strangers who just start to talk to him? Aargh! I hate myself sometimes. Maybe it's worth it. Maybe he likes me. I don't know what to do! You have any ideas, sight book? Of course, you can't speak. That would be a miracle. Oh my god, he's turning around. OK, don't stare, Mary Alice. Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare. Don't let him meet your gaze. Maybe he hates that. Why can't I look away? Why is it impossible? He's meeting my gaze! Oh, no! *Gasp*. He's smiling at me. OK, Mary Alice, your turn to smile. I managed it. He rises up. He's walking toward me. Does he like me? Oh my god, Mary Alice, don't think like that. Of course he doesn't like a simple girl like you. What would your parents say if you told them about this? Well, I'm not going to tell them about my sights at all, so I shouldn't worry.

"Hello, miss! How beautiful you're dressed! I'm Jasper Whitlock! You are...?" he asked me. Oh my god, he gave me a compliment for my clothes. Mary Alice Brandon, answer him!

I open my mouth to answer him... "Ouch!" Someone kicked me in my foot. I look to see who it was. Damn it, my family is staring at me. The boy had so much of my attention that I didn't notice anyone else. Cynthia, my little sister, was giggling.

"Don't talk to strangers," my father hissed in a whisper.

Unfortunately, Jasper heard it. "Sir, you have a beautiful daughter, and I would love to know her, and maybe be her friend, if she wants. Under your permission, of course," he said while he is turned to my father.

If you asked my dad about me getting permission to anything, you would get a 'no' right away. But I still hope this wasn't the case now. This boy wanted to be my friend. He seemed polite. And he wasn't rude even to my dad. Dad just had to say yes.

Dad seemed a little confused. He was obviously not used to people who asked permission to be anyone's friend. "No," he said. My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach. "My daughter shan't talk to anyone she, my wife or I don't know enough."

"I'm sorry I disturbed your evening, sir," Jasper said in a hurted, but polite, voice.

"Dad?" Cynthia said in her begging tone that mom and dad – for some strange reason – couldn't resist. She only used that voice when she wanted to annoy me. "When you said 'My daughter' in that case, did you mean me or Mary?" She knew the answer, but she wanted it out loud. She also knew I hated to be called just Mary.

"I meant just your sister in that case, honey. You can talk to whoever you want," dad answered her. They were always so unfair. Cynthia started to kick my knees under the table to have me look at her. I already knew which face she had on; it was the oh-how-unfair-for-you-NOT-expression. I wanted to kick her back, but I knew she would tell mom and dad so I got punished. I hated her of all my heart. I would have given much for a better life and a better family than this.

Ooups! Someone's coming.

Outside the book, in the real life:

Cynthia is bouncing into my little room. "Hey, Mary! What are you doing?" she asks me.

"Just... writing a little," I answer cautious. She sits down beside me in my short bed.

"What are you writing? I shall see!" she says. She never asks if she may see. It's like I don't have a choice.

"I'm writing my secret dreams," I tell her. I never totally lie to her. "Secret dreams that not even sisters shall read."

"That's unfair! I SHALL see!" she is getting angry. Damn it! I have to get her of it. I've got it; I can pre...

Wow! A surprising end, huh? Well, I can promise you: it's more were it comes from. Hehe! If someone is wondering where I come from, I'm from Norway. You know, that little, cold country up north. Ask me if you wondering! I'll be glad if you do. See ya!


	3. Chapter 3: The future's changed

A déjà vu sight!

Now everything is black. I don't even have a sight. That is... weird, that's the word. I hear my sister panic. Maybe she loves me after all. But I shouldn't think I have any chance.

She calls for mom and dad, I think. But I don't hear enough to know it is exactly that she does. ...

I think it is déjà vu. Maybe it is a sight which comes true. Somehow I know where I am. I am in the hospital's basement. It looks like a room. For some reason, I don't want anyone to find me. And somehow, I know about another way out. I walk to the door I know about, and walk out. It is dark here. I knew that. The darkness comes from nothing but night.

Despite the night, there are people in the streets. Six people. They look so different from each other, but still so alike. There are to women and four men.

One of the men, I recognize right away. It is the beautiful boy from the restaurant! He looks concentrated, and confused. But he is much more beautiful than I remember.

Another man, I think I know but I don't know from where, looks very kind. I am always a little afraid for those people; they can seem nice, but be a total jerk.

The next man, maybe he can be called a boy, laughs of something. "Not everyone, you know. Carlisle is not one of them. He is as kind as he look like," he says, turned to me.

"What did she think, Edward?" the kind man asks the boy, who is apparently named Edward.

"She's just a little scared of people who seem kind. Just in case they're not kind at all," he answers. I'm confused; how does the boy know what I'm thinking?

The fourth man suddenly startles me with his laugh. "Carlisle? Not being kind? Make me believe that!" he says.

"She has never met us before, Emmet. Of course she is a little scared of us. She can't know what we are," Carlisle says.

What they are? I am even more confused. And again, how could the boy know what I was thinking?

"It's a talent. I can read minds," Edward said.

Mind reader? I didn't know that was real. I've heard of it, but I've never believed it.

_Do you all have a talent? _I ask Edward in my mind just to test him if it's real.

"No! Not all of us. Just me and Jasper," he says with a little laugh.

Jasper? Maybe it is the boy from the sight. I wonder why he hasn't said anything, about my thoughts I mean.

"He can't read minds. That's just me," Edward tells me.

_But you said-, _I began to think in my mind

"I said he has a talent," Edward breaks my thoughts of. He's turning to his right side. "You didn't tell us you had met her before, Jasper."

"No! I did not recognize her. She is much more beautiful now," Jasper says in his polite voice. I blush. He is the cutest boy I've ever met, and he is kind to me too.

"Can you two stop that? It's quite annoying to hear 'love-thoughts' all the time from Emmet and Rosalie, so please don't let me live forever through two more." Everyone looks at Edward.

"'Love-thoughts'? What's 'love-thoughts'?" the beautiful girl asks.

"That's when two people like each other so much that they can't think of anything but each other, Rosalie," Edward explains. Does Jasper really like me? No, it can't be that. It has to be Carlisle and the last girl. But maybe... Oh, I have to stop thinking that he might love me.

"No, I'm talking to you." It seems like Edward is angry. "And, yes, you like each other." I blush again. He really does like me...

But what's happening. They're disappearing. Noooo...


	4. Chapter 4: Gone for an eternity

Gone for an eternity!

I don't know what happens. Everything is gone. That's all I know right now.

It's not the darkness I'm used to. No, everything is light. It's like sitting in a white ball except that it isn't round. Or like sitting in a white room apart from that it isn't squared. Hm... It's hard to explain.

It's been like this for a long time now. I would have said an eternity, but I'm sure I'm just overreacting.

I wish I was back in the street. Knowing that Jasper like me is a good feeling. But he is gone, and I'm sure I was just dreaming.

Well, now that I can't do anything but wait, I can probably introduce myself. You know, since I haven't got time earlier. Well, my name is Mary Alice, something you knew but… anyway.

My little sister is named Cynthia and she absolutely love to see me annoyed or sad. She is 9 years old (borned in June 1926) and for some – have to say 'strange' – reason, mom and dad think she is always the kind, little girl in the family who does everything right. She's calling me Mary all the time. Something I hate, and she knows it. That's why she does it, you know.

Mom and dad also call me Mary. Once, I asked them why. The answer was that they didn't like middle-names. I was about to throw a comment right there, but I caught myself before I could say anything. They've always told me that a proper girl does not talk back. My sister isn't a proper girl, if that's true.

I was always wondering from that day; why did they even give me a middle-name if they don't like them. That's stupid of them. I've always wondered why they hate me when my sister doesn't do anything right.

Now I'm tired of this white 'room'. I've never liked white. Not colors either. I like grey or black. I am the fashion girl mom and dad wants me to be, though. I really love to take makeover on my mom or find outfits for her (except that she doesn't thank me afterwards), but I don't like doing it on myself. I'll wear things mom says I have to wear, but she let me put together outfits.

Well, more about me; I have dark blue eyes. Everyone says they're deeper than the ocean when you look into them. I've got short, black hair. I'm told to be small for my age. Both my sister and I are small. I like to have my own style and that's maybe the only reason I'm popular at school.

I don't know why I'm not popular. I don't want to ask either. It would seem weird if someone asks you why they're not one of the school's 'celebrities'. Then I'd just be less popular. My sister is buying popularity. I would never be allowed to do it, but dad and mom is the one who's paying for her. They give her money so she won't be plagued or bullied.

So you see; in my family, nothing is fair for me, but compared to the rest of the world, I'm very lucky. I have a home, I have my own bed, and I have a whole life in front of me.

Many people in other countries aren't even that lucky. I feel like I just can't realize that sometimes. I've always thought that I am the only person in the Universe who got a life this bad, but many people got it worse. And no-one is realizing it.

Well. This is boring. Just sit here and know that I can't do anything. I think I've told you everything about myself already, so what can I do?

I wonder if that last sight was just a dream or a real sight. I hope it was a sight – even though I hate sights – because I really, really, really want Jasper to like me. He was so cute. And he told me twice that I was beautiful. But even if he really likes me, there would be problems; my family. I will never be allowed to speak to him. even when he is never so nice to them.

I hope I'll see him again. If it's even in my sights.

I hate sights. They're in the way of my real life. I'll never remember them if I don't write them down. That's why I bought you, my little, black sight book (actually a diary but it's not about what happened a special day, but about what happened in my sights to future).

The sights aren't always real. The future can change. I hope my future won't change.

The funny thing now is that I don't have you in front of me. If I don't write this down, I'll just forget it.

I have a awful feeling that something's wrong: that someone's doing something they're not allowed to do.

What… what's happening?

…


	5. Chapter 5: The truth

Revealing secrets!

REAL LIFE:

"Ouch! What is going on?" I ask while I'm opening my eyes.

"Alice? I thought you were gone for good. I'm so sorry of the way I've treated you. It wasn't fair. I'm so sorry!" My sister is crying over my bed. She pulls me in a tight embrace. That isn't what she usually does.

And then I see mom. She is kneeling beside the bed, and it looks like she has cried. Dad stands at my desk. He's looking down at something small and squared...

I grab my sight book and glare up at him.

'What is that, Mary? You are not allowed to have secrets from us. That's strictly forbidden,' he says and reaches his hand out for my book. 'Let me see what you are writing so secretly about!' he demands.

'Never! She can have as many secrets as she wants. Especially from you, dad,' my sister suddenly breaks in. 'Even if they're magic.'

Magic? What are they talking about? And why is Cynthia defending me?

'She is not allowed to have secrets, Cynthia. And I don't want a daughter who can make things fly. Don't bother how your sister is living her life. She is going to an orphanage.'

Mother rises up. 'Mary Alice is not going to any orphanage. I don't know what happened to that book, but I wouldn't be surprised if she is magic.'

'What is this talking about magic, anyway? I haven't made anything fly. I can't make things fly. And what happened when I passed out? And when I was almost back; I had a weird feeling that something was really wrong.' I have many unanswered questions, and these were just a few of them.

I am really confused. Had I made my secret sight book fly into the air? But I couldn't have. I was long gone by then.

'You don't trick me, Mary. It was you who made the book fly into the air and open up, and the pen to write in it. And hold it up when I tried to drag it down,' dad says in a serious tone.

That was what I had felt. Someone was trying to look at what "I" was writing. I open the book, but it smashes into my face. Fortunately I am able to take it away, but only straight forward. I notice that no one in my family is able to read anything in it from this angle.

In the book, stands everything that I thought of when I was gone. But not only sentences from me; sometimes it looked like the book had shot in with some lines. There where sentences like; OK; cool; WOW; poor you; aren't you getting sick of it sometimes? And things like that.

Suddenly, dad grabs the book out of my hands. 'You are going to an orphanage,' he says after looking confused at the pages. 'You lie and you do unexplainable magic tricks. That's not allowed in this house.'

'OK,' I say, 'I don't know why but I'll do it. I don't want to fight over something ridiculous as that, so I'll go along with it.'

'But -,' my sister breaks in.

'No but! I'm going along with it, no matter what you say, sis. I know I'm innocent. Maybe I have a little magic in me, but not magic about flying books. I'm not going to bother about living here anymore, 'cause I'm not welcome here.'

'YOU'RE NOT GOING _ANYWHERE_ WITHOUT ME!' my sister screams, 'You maybe think you're the only one with magic in you, but you're not. I'm a magician too. And I wouldn't be surprised if any of our parents has some talent too.' She looks slightly towards mom. Then she turns to dad. 'I know what you have done to my big sister. And even without mom noticing. I hate you! You thought you were going to have a son. And if you got a daughter you wanted her to be perfect 'girlish'. But then you found out that her favorite color was black. No one is perfect, and you know that. Then you needed another one who you were going to treat like a princess. And the other daughter was just to forget, right? You thought I was perfect, but I'm not. I can see the past, from when I wasn't even borned, from when I wasn't there. You say you hate magic, and then you hate me, and I am more than OK with that. I don't know what magic Alice can do,-' she looks at me '-but if Alice is going to an orphanage, I am going too. I'll use your old handcuffs if you won't allow me.'

I just can't make out why she calls me Alice all the time. I want her to call me that, but she never gives me what I want.

'Cynthia, it doesn't help anything.' It's mom who speaks now. 'Don't make up things just to plague your sister. She has it hard enough already. No one is going to any orphanage, but if someone is going to be hurt, it is your dad.' She turns to dad, and suddenly the contours of a knife appear in her hand. An awful vision appears in my head: dad is lying dead on the floor with a knife by his heart. My thought is: 'The future can always be changed, but not the past. Magic do exist, even you want it or not. Magic is hidden everywhere, in any person you meet, even in your family.

I lung my whole body after mom's hand where the knife is clearly now. 'Don't do it! You'll regret, I know you will, I've seen it. I can see the future. I-' I stop mid-sentence, realizing what I've said.

* * *

I had to shorten the chapter more than I wanted. I have my own chappie-rules. Thanks very much to my new fanfictionfriend, XxNonstoppSmilerxX, who has encouraged me to continue my story.

Thank you very much for reading my story! sillygirl1935

P.S. If you see something wrong in my spelling, please tell me. I still need to be better in English.


	6. Chapter 6: Runaway

Chapter 6: Runaway!

'You can see the future? Now you're definitely going to an orphanage.' My dad screams at full voice. It seems as he hasn't noticed the knife in mom's hand. Even if he has seen it, he wouldn't have known what she needs it to do. 'You even make the book fly again, and then you lung after your mother who has a knife in her hand.'

He has seen the knife? 'You maybe don't know what she wants to do, but I know, and I really don't want her to kill you.' Mom didn't even blink of what I said. 'Mom, please? You are really going to regret. Trust me!'

'No one can trust you anymore. You told him the secret. He weren't allowed to know, and now he knows too much,' she tells me in a calm voice.

'OK, but please wait until I'm out of the house'.

I rise up, and start to pack the few things I own. The sight book is hanging in the air near the window, not within reach. I think I have to find a new book. With that thought the little, black book comes sailing downwards right into my little bag. 'Goodbye,' I try to say in a determined voice, but it's only a whisper.

I walk towards the door, but a small and familiar hand is grabbing my wrist. 'Wait for me!' Cynthia says in her tiny, high pitched voice. 'I'll be outside in three minutes.'

I don't care what she does. She can do whatever she wants, but she's not under my responsibility.

I walk outside and wait for her, though I don't know why. Exactly three minutes after I walked out, she's walking through the door.

'See the past, huh? You mean photographic memory?' I ask. Feeling surprisingly interested.

'No, not exactly; I can see things which happened before I was born and stuff like that; for example I can replay the World War. I can replay everything that has happened. It's pretty cool!' she tells me. 'What about you? How does that psychic thing work?'

'If someone decide to do something, I can see what they are going to do, when it is gonna happen, and how it's going to work. I call it sights. Because of those sights I've been pretty good at writing without looking, though they're very disturbing.'

Without noticing I had talked to her without any sign of hate in my voice.

We continue our easy talk as we walk to the orphanage. It is fun to finally be able to really talk to your sister after nine years.

We arrive at the orphanage about half an hour after we left mom and dad.

The orphanage is several yellow buildings set in a square.

'OK, now we're here. What do we do now? Go to the receptionist and say that we want to stay for a while, like the rest of our childhood?' Cynthia asks sarcastically.

Suddenly, I get the sight of dad dead, again. The sight comes so suddenly that I'm caught out of balance. Cynthia catches me before I hit the pavement.

'Wow, you OK?' She sounds concerned.

'Yeah, I'm fine, just a little afraid that mom and dad aren't.' That's when I get a stupid idea. 'Cynthia, can you check the past sometimes and see if dad has died? You don't need to if you don't want to, but mom was planning to kill him.'

'WHAT? Mom was planning on what?' Cynthia almost screams out. Then she goes into a blank expression. I panic.

'CYNTHIA? CAN YOU HEAR ME? WHAT IS HAPPENING, CYNTHIA?'

I scream so loud that someone at the orphanage hear me, and comes running outside. It's an elder man. He looks very healthy, but his hair exposes him. He looks very pale, but maybe it's just the light.

He runs in an extraordinary speed over to me. 'It's OK, darling. She's going to be fine.'

The man lifts Cynthia up easily and starts to walk in the direction of the houses. I have to run to keep up with him though he's carrying Cynthia.

'How are you able to walk so fast? And who are you by the way?' I ask as we walk through the doors.

'I'm sorry, miss. My name is Andreas Whitlock.' He seems to avoid my first question, but I am too interested in his answer to notice.

'Whitlock? I feel like I've heard that name before. Do you have a son or a daughter?'

Mr. Whitlock stops dead and I almost can't stop in time.


End file.
